Tajikistan Day 3

Day Three:

This was a very interesting day, as my guide would put it. I woke up, and went downstairs for more of that bland breakfast. By now the cook down there knew who I was, and had grown to find me as some sort of curiosity. He still stated that the sausage was sausage, when I knew he was a good-for-nothing liar who simply cut up hot dogs after boiling them.

Kevin arrived wearing the exact same outfit he had been wearing since I first saw him. Same green shirt, same tie, same grey suit, all of it was the same. Before we headed off to see a hydro electric plant, he needed to see some of his relatives.

His driver brought us into the old part of the city, the part that had existed before the Soviets arrived and would continue to exist after the Soviet-buildings collapsed. Some may be inclined to call the neighborhood a slum, but that would be incorrect. Parts of it lacked indoor plumbing, but not all. Obviously his family there seemed to be doing well enough, it was a large sprawling ranch-like (using the word "ranch" very loosely) house, that housed his mother, his sister, and his sister's children. His mother was not that old, not when compared to your average Grandmother (mine's 100). She brought out some almond pastes (which were tasty) and I got to meet one of his nephews. Apparently this nephew had been learning English. I sat on the couch listening to his nephew's homework. His nephew read off a story about going to a camp over the summer, to a Pioneer Camp. Most of Tajikistan was obsessed with American culture, particularly the West. They weren't as concerned with New York, where I was from. Had I been from California or Nevada, they might have been more interested.

Outside the house was a small cottage with a mattress inside. According to Kevin, this was their "summer house" where they would sleep outside in the summer, when it got too hot indoors. Walking through the neighborhood, I saw exposed open sewage in some parts, and kids drinking water from pipes coming out the wall. The colors there were beautiful, gorgeous oranges and browns. I even bought a shirt in Tajikistan, one with all of their best colors, the greens and oranges.

Finally we headed off to our ultimate destination, Norak, the place with a hydroelectric plant. The drive could not have been better. Kevin seemed to be concerned that I wasn't talking much. I stared blankly at the hills and mountains we passed. All this vegetation, trees, mountain goats were completely alien to me. Eventually we stopped, so I could take a picture of a boy with a donkey at a well. After that Kevin and I talked about America's pop culture. He said Shrek was popular there, since they had donkeys. They were looking forward to Shrek 3, which would be coming out in Tajikistan in 2008. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it had been out in the US for about a year or so.

The car stopped. I got out next to a roadside marketplace. The marketplace consisted of about 3 women selling various fruits and vegetables for drivers. According to my guide, who spoke with them, they had never met an American before in their entire lives. I was their first then. He took a few pictures, after I told him where to stand and whatnot. They were so thankful, they even gave me some of their grapes for nothing. Just for being there, I got free stuff. The generous nature of the people there continued to shock me.

Norak looked very neat. The city originally had been built exclusively for engineers working around or for the giant hydroelectric plant there. It showed. Everything there looked as if engineers organized it to a tee. In other words, it put New York City to absolute shame, considering NYC has more than enough resources to neaten itself out.

We met Kevin's contact there, whose name I still don't remember. He looked like an engineer, with his perfectly arranged hair, tucked in shirt, and pleasant but bland sweater. With his help, we would get to the hydro electric plant, and see what generated a great deal of Tajikistan's power.

The whole town was built by the Russians in the 1970s. Norak could have been the planned community to solve all of Tajikistan's problems. Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way. Instead, it lead to the country being mostly self-sufficient in energy, and occasionally even having electric exports, but otherwise Tajikistan could not really compete that much internationally. Those who look at its GDP and per capa would assume (wrongly) that the average Tajikistani lived in dire poverty. While their standards of living could definitely use improvement, generally speaking they kept up the standard of living that many Russians had spent time building for them. Yes, the infrastructure had been crumbling for some time, but somehow they kept it together. Somehow, despite a civil war and little foreign investment, the place at least slowed the decay of 1920s and 1970s Soviet built infrastructure. And the 1920s built buildings were of higher quality.

All of which brings us to the plant itself. We passed about 3 different guards, each one holding their very own AK 47. Each one looked a bit interested in the fact that any American would even be around, or in the vicinity. The plant looked immaculate. Everything there had been kept up-to-date, and the main control room (which I was brought into for some reason) looked like a really comfy library, like the ones long forgotten in some monastery. Inside the room laid the nicest, most plush carpet I have seen in a long time, alongside some Russians and Tajikistanis, who were clearly pleased to have any sort of visitor. Due to the nature of the plant, I couldn't ask too many questions, but the tour was nice.

Next to the plant was the lake which made it all possible. We drove through the countless tunnels within the mountainside to get a closer view of the lake. Our engineer asked me about the ruler of California, Arnold Schwartzenegger. I didn't even bother explaining the idea of governor, or that he couldn't become President due to his Austrian birth. They loved him. As soon as I began talking about Arnold, my friend Kevin was busy translating.

Finally we reached the lake. Another guard, this one rather tired-looking, sat on a rock talking with a boat-owner there. For $1, the boat owner speeded us around the entire lake. I got to see each fixture on it. Every little tower, every piece of the mountain, was shown to me for about a buck. Several Russians stood next to our car when we returned, they looked very shaggy and a bit silly when compared to the guard, who at this point stared blankly into space thinking.

Everyone except me was hungry, so we went to get some food. The first place we went to did not lie far from the Engineer's house, and he recommended it. We sat down, and waited to be served. At this point, I think I messed something up. My driver spoke to me in very broken English and Tajik, about the waitress there. I did not know what to say. She stood there at attention, eager to hear my response. In all honestly, she was a very pretty young woman, probably in her early 20s. All I said was "OK", and this appeared to bother her. Thankfully Kevin said they didn't have any food at the restaurant, which was bizarre. It did allow me to avoid what could have been a really uncomfortable situation. Uncomfortable because I didn't know what was going on.

We drove up the road to an open fish restaurant, with Tajikistan's answer for a embittered businessman as the owner. He looked as if he didn't know how to smile, and his 9 year old daughter was the cook. Immediately I started having second thoughts about the place, but the outdoor setting looked too nice to say no to. All three of them began asking about the US, why we chose Bush twice, what kind of food we had there, all the normal questions. I asked about the "X" that hung from the driver's mirror. Kevin responded, saying that the X-Files were very popular in Tajikistan, since they came from Russian TV. He stated that the new season of the X-Files looked very good. I tried to explain the show had been cancelled in the US for about 5 years, but he didn't believe me. We ate in silence for a while, watching a Chinese truck driver curse off a Tajikistani driver. A truck of Russian soldiers passed by as well, and then stopped. Apparently a Russian base existed close to Noruk. They bought some fish and left. Kevin forced me to have some vodka at 2 in the afternoon, and we continued focusing on the fish.

A man walked down the road, carrying a piece of a car. He saw us and said hi. According to Kevin, that was his old neighbor in Dushanbe. Finally, after speaking to him for a while, we decided it was time to go back to Dushanbe.

Kevin and the man talked for some time. The man looked exactly like Bill Murray, although I didn't tell him this.

We got to my hotel, and I went to sleep for a while, feeling a little ill. Kevin invited me to a wedding the next day, but as I felt this sickness would most likely be getting worse, I politely declined. Unfortunately for me, I turned out to be right.